Siren
by AlienaCooper
Summary: Alex Rider is 18, and a paid member of MI6. He believes he has seen it all, done it all and been through it all, till he meets an ex assassin with a past to rival his own. can he keep her and himself alive before his next mission? clearer summery within!
1. Meeting A Tiger

Summery: Alex Rider is 18, a fully paid member of the MI6. He's seen everything and done more than a man tiwce his age could imagine doing. Yet just before he is sent on a new mission, with a brand new partner, he meets a young woman with a name he can barely pronounce. he always thought that did not have an easy life, that he had been exploited by his bosses… now he feels he has it easy. however, the challange for Alex here is to keep this young woman, this ex-assassin alive, before her family and her old gang come back and get rid of her for good. And that is not even his official mission. With Jack engaged, Tom within MI6 beside him and this young beautiful stranger attracting danger where ever she looks, Alex is pretty sure life can't get any more comlex than it is... until of coarse he starts his mission...

A/N: i started this story under another name, which is why some of u may recognise it, and a lot of it's content. but i'm editing it chapter by chapter (so it mite take longr on sum chapters to update than others). some cahpters will b totally re-done while others only partially. i was quite happy with this beginning, so i thought of very little change. anyway, plz read, review and above all- enjoy

And... Back To The Beginning Again

Yet again, it started where it all began. It always happened in that fashion, no matter how much he tried to avoid it… In that same office. With that same man. Alan Blunt. Head of MI6 and the most boring man on the planet. Alex never had any time for him, the only person that came even close to that was the woman next to him, sucking on a mint. Mrs Tulip Jones.

Yet why was Alex Rider back in the office of Alan Blunt, three years after the first meeting? Quite simple really.

Another mission.

Another chance to escape death.

Another scar to add to his collection.

And this time, another pay check to make up for all of that.

Yes he was seventeen, and going to sixth form, it wasn't just any regular sixth form. Since recruiting Alex Rider, the MI6 had found out how useful exceptional teenager could be. Nobody really suspected them. Nobody thought them to be smart enough. In reality, it was teenagers and children who held the most information, as no one paid any heed to them.

Because of this, schools were set up, inside MI6, to train these youngsters to be spies. To set them up for a life of lies, danger, and deceit.

The only unfortunate thing about this arrangement, was that many of the children recruited were coming to a better world than the one they had left.

Many were orphaned. Most were ignored. At least a quarter were abandoned. All were either under the care of foster homes or guardians or simply the state.

Many were thieves and con-artists already, turning to a life of crime to survive and live.

Other's had a knack for getting into trouble, and weaselling their way out of it again easily.

There were never many of them, the whole spy system could not rely on children alone. At the moment, there were about eight at Alex's level (aged between seventeen and nineteen), three female five male, including Alex and twenty between the ages of fourteen and sixteen. All of whom were pretty much renegades from the law. All taken in by the MI6 and used their own purposes.

Alex hated it. They were all being manipulated and used almost against their will. Put in extreme dangers and left there.

At the same time, the children were looked after when at home, received a proper education for when they got older (though Alex often added to himself; if they got older), paid properly, had a pension plan for when they decided to leave the services. They even employed specially trained psychologists to look after the minds of the youngsters when they came back from a mission if need be.

They were looked after, yet they were _still_ used.

"Alex," sighed Mrs. Jones, "why are you still here? I thought you would have left long ago."

Alex had developed a lot within those three years; scars still littered his body and his most impressive was the one on his chest. His muscles were more developed, more wiry and lithe. He looked like a professional athlete.

His dirty blonde hair had grown so he could tie it back into a spiky pony-tail at the bottom of his head. His haunted brown eyes were still dangerous and mysterious, but they held more life in them. They were less dead, and hungered more for adventure than ever before.

He had learned to thrive off the missions he had been given rather than pay for them. He had grown tall too, and handsome to the females that saw him. Though the female spies around him never said anything to him or tried anything. They concentrated on the job, almost more than the males.

He grinned crookedly at her. "It's kinda like a drug now, Mrs Jones," he told her casually, stretching his arms up, "you got me started, now I can't get enough."

"Not thinking of leaving us?" Blunt stated simply.

"Can't get rid of me that easy," he replied, just as casually, "besides, wouldn't you rather a willing spy rather than one that has to be bribed."

Mrs. Jones let out a slight laugh. In the past they had to bribe him with his guardian's allowance to stay in England. Now she had a permanent visa, and Alex worked for MI6 legally, though not on the books. He was paid- finally.

He still lived with Jack, and wanted her to stay. She wanted to stay too, she had come to love Alex like a little brother, almost a son, though she was now only thirty-one and engaged to an English man. Ironically, he was a spy in MI6, having met Jack through Alex when they had been forced to partner up when Alex was fifteen.

"You may want to retire when you hear this mission," Mrs Jones murmured uneasily, glancing at Blunt.

Alex shrugged. "Can't be worse than Scorpia," he replied, as usual, his left arm twinging in the remembrance of the price he had paid for betraying the organisation and shutting down about a third of it's operations. It was a shame that it was back in full swing and there was nothing they could do about it.

"It is… Scorpia related," Mrs Jones admitted sullenly, "but we'll explain it when the girl ar-"

"I WILL NOT!" yelled a voice from outside making Alex turn in his seat, it was a stranger's voice, he was surprised to hear such a commotion in the building. He was used to it being quiet and sedate. No one usually yelled. "NO WAY! KEEP ME OUT OF IT!"

The doors burst open and girl stormed in looking incredibly annoyed. Following her were two men in suits and sun-glasses, evidently, by their expressions, used to this girl's out bursts.

The girl, herself, was odd.

She was short, about five foot three, possibly a little smaller. She had a slim build, dancer's body, and angry expression. Her brown hair shimmered red where the light hit it, and her hazel eyes flashed with anger at the people in front of her. Her fine majestic features were twisted, almost artfully, into an angry frown, her full mouth part as she panted slightly with the intensity of her anger. She was an odd one, and Alex had never seen her before. He was certain he would have remembered such a girl if he had.

"I am not going back to the Tigers," she snapped angrily, "I fucking refuse." Her English had a trace of an accent in it, but not much. She could have been born and bred in London all her life, though Alex for some reason doubted it. "I'll be killed for fuck's sake!"

"No you won't," promised Mrs. Jones quietly, "you were only known to a sect of them-"

"MY PARENTS WERE THE BOSSES FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, YOU _STUPID_ WOMAN!" the girl shrieked, her panic clearly seen, "my picture would have been circulated within all other sects by now!"

Alex's eyes flicked between the girl and the adults. The two suits were trying to calm her down, talk her into being quiet. She silence them with a harsh glare and a twitch of her hand. They seemed to know something about her that made them stop, and step back. The power she had over them seemed to be immense.

"Alexander Rider," said Blunt suddenly, standing up, "meet out newest informant, Shumila Hussain. Shumila Hussain, this is our longest member of the Youth Movement project, Alexander Rider."

"Uh… hey?" said Alex uneasily, standing up politely, watching her.

"Whatever," she snapped, "informant? Listen buddy, I stopped my brother from killing you, I haven't told you anything. And who the hell says I wanna work for you lot anyway?"

"Miss Hussain," Alex said suddenly, the politeness in his voice seemed to register with her as she snapped her glare to him, and softened the fire in her eyes, "I would not advise you to try and con these people out of your help. They will try anyway they can to get you into their order, and they will do it."

The girl snorted. "Listen mate," there was some lilts of South African mixed into her words, but they were hints nothing more; the accent was something of a mismatch of many different accents, "they can only blackmail people who have something to loose. I've already lost everything. They send me back to the Tigers, I'll be killed. They put me in prison, I'll be let out eventually, then hunted down and killed. They grant me amnesty- I'll still be killed. I've lost my family. I've lost my home. I've lost everything except my life, and even that I know can be taken easily. Even then, death ain't something I'm afraid of. They ain't got nothing on me."

Alex nodded, impressed. Some people would have given up hope faced with that, this girl seemed to be going strong and not be oppressed by such things. She was someone to be admired.

"She's right," said Mrs. Jones, easily, "and we will not make you do anything."

"Good, now I'm listening."

The change of mood happened so fast, that Alex didn't even see it. One minute the girl, Shumila, looked ready to burst. The next she was as calm as a cat who had been given a saucer of milk.

She glanced at Alex, almost uneasily, as she moved foreword to sit down. Her movements were calculated and measured, yet at the same time casual and relaxed, as a cat ready to pounce. She suddenly reminded Alex of the Siberian tiger he had once faced when he was fourteen. He got the feeling she was just as friendly if provoked.

"Does he know?" she wandered as she sat down, facing Blunt.

"No," stated Blunt, "I do not thi-"

"I do," she replied calmly.

The feeling of the Siberian tiger was trebled by that simple comment, though this time it was directed at the man in front, rather than himself. He felt relatively safer, her anger and attack was not at him.

"Mr Rider-"

"It's Alex," he smiled at her, crookedly and half-heartedly, "Mr. Rider was my uncle."

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, catching the word was, but said nothing more on the matter. She even sounded sorry. "All right then, Alex. Would it alarm you to work with a person who has been trained to kill since they were strong enough to walk in a straight line?" she had said all that in a single breath, without blinking. As though it was a question asked everyday. Yet Alex was pretty certain someone in her position was probably asked a similar question nearly everyday; and he still didn't know her position.

"Yes," he said truthfully, "but only for a little. No one can help the people they were brought up by."

A flicker of a smile danced across her face. It lit it up, just for that flashing moment, then was gone. "There's you're answer, Blunt," she said sourly, "either you tell him of my history- or I refuse to even consider the job before me. Even if it means destitution. And in fact- I'd rather Mrs. Jones tell it. She is more likely to give an understanding account."

Blunt frowned, and nodded to Mrs. Jones. He nodded to at the two suits to leave.

"See ya guys," called Shumila, hearing their foot steps.

"You can count on it girly," replied one of them, his tone friendly. Apparently their time together had been a pleasant one until she had reached the office.

Alex looked expectantly at Mrs Jones.

The woman heaved a heavy sighed and started another mint. She got up and turned to a filing cabinet and leafed through it softly.

No one spoke. The only sound in the room was the soft hum of the air conditioning, the ruffling of Mrs. Jones' fingers and the breathing of four people in the room.

"Shumila Pulvasha Shandana Hussain," started Mrs. Jones quietly, as she found the file, finally, flicking through it, not facing them, "was born on the midnight of the 1st of November, and is now aged seventeen.

"Born in the pukhtoon area of Pakistan, directly on the boarder of the north west frontier as her mother wished. Yet brought to Afghanistan with the rest of her family so her training could begin when she reached the age of being able to walk, as she has mentioned, in a straight line.

"She is a master of weapons, including guns, swords, daggers amongst other things. She has surpassed herself in Karate, judo, jiu-jitsu, tiu-jitsu, Thai- Kwan do and even the more modern police basic training.

"She can kill with her bare hands if she wants to, or find away to murder with anything around her. She has no fears that she knows of, and is now the on the run from her family."

"You're an assassin?" asked Alex, surprised, looking at the girl next to him.

"Yep," she responded easily, picking at the black nail polish she wore, she glanced at him, "got a problem with it?"

"Yes," he replied, "how do I know I can trust you?"

"I haven't been paid to kill you," she shrugged, "I don't kill unless I've been paid. And so far, I haven't commit murder. Haven't been paid enough to take a life." Her face darkened.

"What she means is," started Mrs. Jones, "she kept denying money, saying that she wasn't being paid enough."

"Couldn't bring you're self to kill in cold blood?" he asked quietly, speaking from experience.

"Sort of," she admitted, "I could kill if I have to. But not innocents." She stared off into the distance and heaved a heavy sigh. "You should also know that I was going to be sent here to kill you, Alex. Get close to you and kill you. There was only a slight problem."

"Couldn't kill someone your own age?" he asked, bitterly.

She chuckled. "I wasn't talking from my point of view, master Rider," she pointed out, her being calm as almost as arresting as her being ridiculously angry. "The agency that wanted you killed didn't have a picture of you. The only description they could give you was about two or three years out of date. And when you're fourteen compared to when you're seventeen, it would have been rather… difficult for me. That and I really didn't wanna kill a kid when I didn't know what they had done." She shrugged. "I have the mentality of a killer, I have the training, I don't have the soul of one. That's what you need to make it in the business."

In the space of maybe fifteen minutes, Shumila Pulvasha Shandana Hussain went from being a complete stranger to being someone Alex felt he had to get to know better. Even if she had originally been sent over to kill him.

He realised with a jolt, she was in danger of being killed herself. And why was she even with the MI6? Wouldn't they want her killed? It didn't make sense to him.

"Why MI6?" he demanded, "most people in your position wouldn't wanna come to the people who want assassins arrested."

"I'm about number six or seven on their most wanted list. Or is it eight…" she added to Mrs. Jones.

"Seven," Blunt confirmed for her.

"Was," insisted Mrs. Jones.

There was another flicker of a smile across the girl's face. "So I needed my name cleared. I escaped my assassination chain, and came here."

Alex's face clouded over. "Did you tell them everything?"

The tension in the air was almost electrical. She was the only calm one in the room, staring out the window, almost dreamily. Blunt's hands were suddenly white from the fact that he was grasping them too hand. Mrs Jones leaned forwards in her seat, anticipating the girl's answer.

Alex wasn't sure what to do, whatever the answer. If yes, she had betrayed her people, how did he know she wouldn't betray these people again.

If no, how could they know she was truly on their side.

Suddenly he didn't want to know the answer.

"You know what," he started, just as she opened her mouth, "I don't want to know. Something's are best left unknown, and I think I can live with this being something I'm left in the dark with."

She looked surprised, for the first time, and just stared at him, confused. Then she shrugged. "Any other questions?"

"Will you kill?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"If my life or my ally's life is in danger, and if it is the only way I can tell will save me or them. A last resort shall we say."

For the first time since she walked into the room, he smiled at her genuinely. "Now that's what I call honesty," he announced, "so we're going to be sent on a mission together?"

A surprisingly dazzling smile lit up her defined features, the brightness of it and the light heartedness of her expression took the room by surprise.

The tension broke entirely, and Mrs. Jones relaxed back into her chair and Blunt's hands returned to their normal greyish colour. Alex was still stunned by how much she changed when she smiled.

"As far as I know," she replied, "but if it involves the Tigers, I am not getting myself killed for the sake of a country that wanted me dead to begin with." Her smile disappeared as suddenly as it came as she looked at Blunt with piercing eyes.

"Not to being with," Blunt responded calmly, his voice exceedingly dull, "we need you out of danger and out of the lime light before we can do that."

"Then delete my files off you're network, get any information of me off the internet, make it so that I don't exist- apart from my birth certificate. Treat it as though you've caught me and have killed me but don't want anyone to find out," she said that as calmly as though she was asking a question in a subject she didn't understand.

"It's not just that, you need a place to stay."

"I'm not staying in you're spy kids complex," she snapped, causing Alex to grin at her mocking tone, "they probably know who I am because of you. I don't want that stigmatism."

"No… we were thinking more like, full time protection." His eyes slide across briefly to Alex before darting back to Shumila.

"Riders' house?" she demanded, catching the look.

"Yes," he admittedly simply, "it's a temporary solution to a temporary problem."

"Why can't I let them attack me once and play dead?" she complained, "then I won't need to trespass on some one else's-"

"You should," Alex interrupted, knowing interrupting her would be a bad idea, but did it anyway.

"What?"

"Stay with me," he shrugged, "it'll be easier for you and this lot too. And how difficult could it be?"

She chuckled. "You'll be surprised," she murmured, "but if you're sure."

"Miss Hussain, I am surprisingly certain."


	2. Settling In? Yeah, Sure

Settling In? Yeah, Sure

Jack sat across from Shumila Hussain, the younger girl looking rather uncomfortable sitting on a chair. She already had her legs crossed while sitting on it.

Jack on the other hand was in a little bit of shock. She had originally thought the girl was Alex's girlfriend and wanted to know if her parents were ok with her coming over. When the two of them glanced at each other, then started laughing, she realised this was a work matter rather than a private one.

"Right… so…," started Jack, stammering slightly, "Shumila's an ex-assassin, even though you're only seventeen."

"Yep," she nodded.

"And you two are going on a mission together soon."

"Yes," agreed Alex.

"But we need to stop her family from killing her first."

"Mmmhmm." Shumila.

"And you guys have no idea what this mission is?"

"Nope." Alex.

Jack looked between them, then shrugged. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Shumila frowned, swallowing hard and looked immediately as though she thought herself out of place. Alex's sympathy increased for his tenants as questions almost visibly flew round her head.

He reached out to touch her shoulder, then retracted his hand remembering that most girls like her did not like being touched.

"What's up?" he asked, then shoved a piece of lasagne in his mouth.

"Nothing," she replied, far too quickly, making him frown. Seeing as he couldn't exactly reply, she answered the unspoken question. "I was just… I don't understand how miss Starbright can-"

"It's Jack," she insisted suddenly, she despised being called miss anything.

Shumila chuckled nervously. She hadn't meant to irritate the housekeeper. "Sorry Jack. But... how can you… stay so calm about these missions? Aren't they dangerous?"

Alex swallowed down his fork full and took another to stop him from being able to talk. He couldn't look at Jack just then, he knew very well that she worried about him when ever he went on a mission.

She was calmer about it more recently; she had started demanding more information and was given it surprisingly freely. Yet she still worried about him and George. Her boys. Both in MI6, and neither liking the idea of an office job. It was this or they would have both gone insane. She had gotten used to it. After a while.

She wandered for a moment how she was going to explain it to an emotionally challenged girl.

"Very," shrugged Jack, watching the other girl closely for a reaction of any kind, "of coarse it is. Just like yours."

Shumila flinched slightly, but said nothing. There was a flash of sympathy from Jack to Shumila, but the older woman didn't act on it. There was no need.

"But it's the way Alex is. He doesn't like staying inside. He likes being in the middle of it all- he's like George." Shumila nodded, smiling slightly, she had been explained to about George as the older man would appear every so often. "I can't do anything about it. So I've guessed it's just much better to keep cool about it."

"Jack," started Shumila, she was visibly suppressing something deep inside her, she was almost shaking, "you need a medal."

"I think so to," she grinned.

Shumila flashed her a smile again, and went back to her meal with no other comments. Clearly someone who did not talk all that much. Unless of coarse she was demanding answers as Alex had clearer seen when in Blunt's office. Yet she never seemed to pry further than she thought was necessary.

After dinner, Shumila insisted on clearing up, not taking no for an answer.

She obviously still felt bad about intruding on their home. She hadn't stopped muttering her apologies to Alex on the way back on the train. He had had to threaten her before she kept her mouth shut. He was glad to see a small smile on her face showing that she hadn't taken him all that seriously, though she still kept her repeated 'sorry's to herself.

Jack watched her for a moment, and made Alex help her as well.

He nudged her slightly as he handed her a plate. She glanced up and him, and accepted with a nod.

"You don't have to keep quiet you know," he murmured.

She shrugged, pretending she didn't know what he was talking about. She refused to look at him, and carried on washing up.

He frowned at her. He was used to girls refusing to talk, the three girls who went to the same sixth form as him were just that type. Not surprising. Two had been abandoned and the other had run away. One was an accomplished con-artist and therefore knew how to hide her true thoughts.

"Gimme that," he offered as she reached out for a dishcloth to dry the plate off. He picked the cloth of up, and took the plate away from her, drying it wordlessly.

A few minutes of silence passed as she finished up with the dishes, plates and cutlery. The only sound was that of the water splashing on the metal of the sink.

Alex looked up to see Shumila staring at it, trailing her fingers through the stream and boiling water. Though her skin started to flush under the heat, it seemed to him that she hardly felt the heat at all.

"You're lucky," she said at last, "you're just… so incredibly lucky.""

He chuckled slightly. "Yeah I know. Jack's amazing."

A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah." She stared at the water for a few more seconds, before turning away. "I'm going to bed. Night Rider."

"It's Alex," he shot back.

"Oh yeah," she glanced back, shrugged sheepishly, "just used to using surnames."

"It's co-" she was gone. "Cool?"

He frowned at the empty doorway. Then stacked up the plates and went into the TV to sit with Jack. The most normal thing in the world for a kid to do. Though for Alex it was something he missed being able to do with less tension.

Up in the guest room, Shumila sat cross legged in the middle of the room, staring out of the window.

She lost herself in the sights of London Town. She had been in England little over a month and she had already grown to love the city. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the history, even most of the people. She was well aware of the peoples history, but she could not hold it against the people of the country for the mistakes of the predecessors and government.

Ironically it was their government who had taken her in. Though she knew perfectly well why. A killer on your side was a useful thing to have, and she was the best her family had seen for a while. She had never been paid to kill in her life- but it didn't mean she hadn't killed.

Her eyes closed gently allowing the painful memory of that moment wash through her again, as she did whenever it even shadowed her mind. It was the only way to allow her mind to get through what her body had done.

She hated killing, but at times it was necessary. Saving her baby brother seemed necessary to her, and she never allowed the death to make her feel bad about what she had done. Ali was alive and that was all that mattered to her.

"Za vrak," she murmured to herself in pushto, 'I am lost.'

Nothing more honest had been stated about her life before.


	3. Gaining Answers, Revealing Questions

A/N: thanks 2 Glissioning Raven for being mi first reviewer since i started re-posting this glad u liked it

oh and yet again, seeing as it's a more normal time of day for me... EID MUBARAK PPL!!!!! as i sed b4, i dont care if you r muslim or not, believe in a god or not or are even human or not (animals shud have fun 2 P) i hope u have a gd day D so EID MUBARAK (or in english... HAPPY EID) to you all

enjoy chapter 3

Gaining Answers, Revealing Questions

A week later, Alex was finally persuaded to go and wake up Shumila when Jack sent him up.

He was completely hopeless in the kitchen while Jack was a genious. She could make meals in ten minutes, mostly because she was too lazy to let it take any longer.

He knocked on the door softly at first, calling her name gently. Even under normal circumstances he was nervous around her. She had her friendly moments. But that was all there was to it. Moments.

The smile that Alex had seen when he first met her in Blunt's office never graced her face. She kept to herself, going out and exploring on her own. She always kept in touch if she got lost, but that was it. When she came home she would rarely join him or Jack in their convosations or if they watched TV together. If she did she wouldn't say very much, and she had a habit of staring straight ahead.

Alex wandered if it was simply because she was reminded of her family that she obviously missed terribly. Even though the history she portrayed about them was not a good one. The again, that haunted blank look in her eyes didn't remind him of homesickness by any stretch of the imagination.

He pushed the door open quietly and peered in. Shumila was sitting in the middle of the room, in a blast of growing sunlight, looking out at the city she had escaped to.

Her legs were crossed and her hands were rested in her lap gently. She looked calm and relaxed. But from what Alex could guess, she would never be completely relaxed. He had seen her practising before when she thought she had shut the door. Though Alex meditated as well, with her calm, quiet stillness, she surpassed his expertise easily.

"Shumila."

He saw her blink covering her hazel eyes briefly before turning to look at him, confused. A smile fluttered across her face.

"Yeah?"

Impassive features yet again.

"It's breakfast, wanna come down?"

"Yeah sure- I'll be down in a bit."

"Cool." Alex turned to leave.

"Uh- hey," she called suddenly.

He puased, just to wait in case he was hearing things.

"Alex?" she called again, she seemed to think he had left.

"Yeah?" He let himself in again to see her profile. She was almost silloetted with the sun light, her strong jaw line defined almost defiantly.

"I- uh-" she stammered, she turned herself round, and looked up at him.

Her hazel eyes met his brown. It was only then Alex was really able to appriciate how much hurt the poor girl had been put through. How much actually showed up in her eyes was amazing. He thought she would have been able to hide it. Apparently not.

She took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry I've been a complete bitch to you and Jack. And I'm sorry I didn't answer all your questions back in Blunt's office, but that man gives me the creeps." Alex chuckled slightly. "I know I owe you an explaination, even if it's just becuase I'm staying under your roof. You need to know who you're protecting."

"Not if you're not comfortable with it," he dismissed instantly.

She shook her head. "It's fine. I've had to tell people who I think should rot in hell, why can't I tell the person who's taken me in out of the goodness of his heart. I'm telling you. Just… don't go to MI6 with it. They have me off their most wanted list, and I kinda want to keep it that way."

Alex frowned. Did that mean…?

He took the hands that she streched out to him. They were rough and worn. Her fingers were long and strong, but they looked much shorter than they really were. Her nails were painted black, simply because she liked the way black nail polish looked on long nails (as she had mentioned to Jack once at dinner). Her grip on his hands were strong. Too strong for any normal girl with that lithe build.

His face was filled with confusion as he considered all of that. There was far too much to the girl than she had origionally appeared as.

"I'll do you a deal," she started instantly, "I won't tell you everything. I mean hell, I can't! But I will answer your questions truthfully, and I will only leave the things out that I have to. Understand?"

Realising it was the only way he'd ever learn anything about the mysterious assassin in his house, he agreed immediately. "My turn to make a deal," he smiled at her croockedly.

She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows and nodded. The simple gesture made him shiver again. Tiger was the right name for the organisation if their workers were like her!

"I know you're not much of a talker," he pointed out, the croocked grin disappeared, he had become serious. He hoped Shumila could understand that, "so, if you want, I'll ask you one question a day while you're here, living with us."

She blinked in surprise at him. Then the grin that had luminated her face in the office returned again for the first time. "All right," she agreed, "you're more observant than I thought! I'm impressed master Rider."

Taking his cue from the formal address, he stepped back and bowed sightly at the hips, his hand on his abdomine, his outher out streched. She laughed, properly, and reached out to steal the hair band that tied his tiny pony tail.

Surprise took hold of Alex as he touchedd the back of his hair, feeling it all fall about his face. He looked at Shumila who was using it to tie up her own hair.

"Finder's keepers," she grinned, skipped past him, and darted down the stairs just as he stepped out of the room.

Again he had been taken by suprise by just how fast she could move. He knew he shouldn't be, he had known women to be good spies and fast ones at that.

He walked down stairs to see Jack and Shumila talking contentedly. It was about nothing inparticular, mostly about where Jack wanted to go or the sights that Shumila wanted to see. Alex frowned. What had made her more open?

Something wasn't right. He couldn't figure out what. But his gut was telling him to keep a look out.

Shumila laughed happily at a story that Jack told her about when she had taken Alex to the London Eye, when he was sixteen. The start of _another _mission, this one took him to Dubia.

"You know what," Shumila started, "with people like the MI6 involved, a simple life is just far to much to ask for."

Jack rolled her eyes in agreement. "Exactly. We'd still have Ian if it wasn't for them… and Alex could have gone to a normal school. Normal life."

"Then again," mused Shumila, "you would never have met George. And would Alex honestly ever settle in a normal school? Even if MI6 butted out?" Jack considered it, before shaking her head slowly. "I've seen his record. He generally took things into his own hands." Shumila shrugged. "Then again, all I know about him is on paper. You know him better."

Jack smiled softly. "You're right though. I think this life is suited to him more. Like Ian I guess. I never met his father, so I can't really comment on him."

"John Rider," murmered Shumila, almost absently, "best agent in the MI6. Only gave it up to be with his family. Then killed by Julia Rothman." She shook her head, and looked up at Jack. "I think it's in the blood. Riders' have to be spies."

Alex frowned to himself. How did she know about his father? More questions just kept springing up.

"Morning ladies," he announced, coming to sit opposite Jack, "I believe one of you has something of mine.

Shumila raised her eyebrows. "I might... but finders keepers my friend," she winked and got up to get something out of the fridge, "orange juice anyone?" she added. Opening the fridge and retreiving the carton. She turned and smiled at them all. Jack grinned at her and nodded, while Alex sat saying "Yes."

Even if he was rather wary of her, it was nicer to have a more social Tiger in the house, rather than one who look constantly ready to pounce.

As she retrieved three cups, and set them on the table filling them up, Alex still couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling that something wasn't right. And he had never been wrong before.


	4. Attack on a Tigress

A/N: thank you very muchly BrazilianPrincess and Hunter of Darkness i'm glad u liked mi story enough to review it plz do more reviews inspire me more P even if its me going ovr stories -

enjoy chapter 4 XD

Attack on a Tigress

At about four, Alex got a call from Shumila that she was home. She sounded like she was grinning when she told him that he should listen to Jack far more often.

He got a call from Jack about ten minutes later asking him to bring home some bandages.

"Why…?" he asked slowly, letting one of his friends take over the game for him for a bit.

"Shumila tripped on the way home, she couldn't see where she was going," said Jack breezily, "it didn't start hurting till she sat down. You're exactly the same you know."

Though he was still suspicious, he let it go, and did as Jack asked. He got home at about seven, to find the house unusually quiet and subdued.

"JACK!" he called, worry setting in, "you there?!"

"Hang on," she called, her voice getting nearer, "coming down."

As she walked down the stairs, he could immediately tell something was wrong. She looked tired and more scared than anything else

Alex began to worry.

"What happened?" he asked immediately, "who is it? Has something happened to George?!"

Jack grinned at him. "Chill kiddo! Nothing happened. I'm just a bit tired that's all."

He frowned at her. "Where's Shumila?"

Jack hesitated.

That was answer enough.

He stormed up the stairs and pushed his way into Shumila's room.

She was sitting on her bed, reading an Urdu book. She looked relatively peaceful and calm.

If it wasn't for the fact she had her back thoroughly bandaged and another round her waist, and that most of her skin was badly bruised or cut, one could have thought that nothing much had happened at all- it was as though it happened to her everyday.

When she looked up at him in surprise, he could see a bruise forming just above her eye and her lip was swollen and bloody.

She went pink under his glare and gathered her blanket up to cover herself up, all she was wearing was a spaghetti strap top over her bra. She felt odd wearing such brief clothing in another's home.

"What?" she asked, her voice steady and calm, but her blush cancelled out this charade.

"What do you mean what?!" he stammered, looking completely shocked, "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?!"

She scowled at him, and went back to reading her book, ignoring him stubbornly.

He sighed, that really wouldn't have gotten her to talk to him, and he knew it. He sat on the bed and tugged the book out of her hands. "What happened Shumila?" he asked, politely, pointedly looking at her eyes, "who did this?"

"An agent. Tracked me down, got to me after I got out of the shops. They dragged me down an ally way, but I was struggling too much. We fought." She shook her head. "They scared my back again in the end and told me that was something to remember them by. I think they thought I was dead. It's not as bad as it looks. They watched me grow up, so I don't think they could have done too much damage to me." She shrugged, and held out her hands again for the book, her face completely emotionless, as though the attack on her life meant nothing to her.

Alex stared at her, suddenly very tempted to hug her, but she would have been in too much pain.

"Does it hurt?" he asked softly, taking her hand instead.

"Only if I let it," she shook his hand away from her's, and took back the book. "I don't think I can make dinner tonight," she added, casually.

"All right," muttered Alex getting up, feeling surprisingly snubbed.

He walked out of the room quietly closing the door behind him.

Though she was refusing to talk to him, he felt angry. The thing was, he was angry with himself; he had let her go out on her own, knowing his job was to protect her from something like that. He hadn't been there to make sure she was all right. He hadn't been at home to make sure her injuries were properly looked after, seeing as Jack must have panicked seeing the girl walk in with such injuries.

He was a spy. The longest spy of the Youth Movement and he should have known by then that he couldn't take such risks! Especially with a guarding job. Especially with someone like Shumila Hussain. She had possible more enemies than him.

As he tried to assume a more casual expression as he came down stairs to talk to Jack about dinner. But even as he managed it, it was obvious to Jack he had been effected by the damage done to the girl.

Back in her room, Shumila went over the day's events. How she knew she was being followed as soon as she walked down the street out of the local shop. She had started up a small conversation with the Afghani man behind the counter in their native tongue. It had felt good to finally speak it with someone who understood the language. So she had taken much longer than she should have.

She forced herself to remember how the men followed her, how she was stupid and didn't try to break into a run. She knew very well she'd have been able to out run them. Even if she lost her things on the way. She did anyway.

The memories guided her through the tortures they put her through.

First the guilt of abandoning her family, stopping her brother, betraying them. Trying to make her come back, that she wouldn't be punished. An our right lie. They wouldn't take her back properly. They'd kill her eventually.

Secondly threatening her, telling her they'd kill her then and there, how her father would have her tortured. The madness her mother was going through. That too was a lie. Her mother was too strong. She fitted in perfectly with the assassins she married into. Though she loved her daughter, and would do nothing to harm her, Shumila knew her mother would never back her on running away.

Thirdly, attacking her, putting her through physical pain. Forgetting entirely that she had been trained since before she could talk to cut pain out of her system till she needed it. To heal herself.

Finally, how she killed them. Letting the animal in her take hold of her. How she completely forgot the restrictions on her back and snapped the man's neck with a quick tug with her knee at his back. His name was Rashid. An Indian man. A widower. Hating life and everything in it for loosing his wife and son. The other man with his throat cut, her hazel eyes boring into his blue. His name was Benjamin. An ex-CIA man. Changing sides for the money, after abandoning the troops when he came to Afghanistan. No one knew of his past.

She called MI6, told them what happened and forced her way home, into the open arms of a worried Jack.

Alex would find out the details, of how the people were killed, and probably why they tried to kill her. But she wouldn't tell him. She was far too ashamed. She had killed her own people. To save her own neck. She could never go back.

And finally she knew she didn't want to. Murder ate at her soul and turned her into an animal she didn't want to be.

She didn't care where she lived, or if she had to turn into a prostitute. Anything was better than being a killer. Anything.

Later that night, Alex came in to check on the injured girl. He had been rather subdued during dinner, and Jack wasn't willing to talk. They both knew very well that after those attacks, Alex would probably be sent on a mission, and Shumila would either go with him, or be banished from their lives entirely.

Jack had come to like having another girl in the house, and Alex liked the company. He lost the feeling of something being wrong with her after that, and only found himself feeling friendship for the girl instead. Having her taken away would cut a large hole in the change of strategy.

He knocked on the door. When there was no answer, his heart started racing and he pushed the door open.

The light was still on and Shumila had fallen asleep, the book still in her lap. He chuckled slightly, and walked over taking the book away, and putting her in a more comfortable position to be sleeping in.

She winced in pain in her sleep as he moved her, but didn't wake up or do anything else. He knew the next day she'd probably start needing a dose of morphine or something similar to keep the pain at bay.

He also knew, that no matter what happened, that attack was the trigger for what was to happen to him and her in coming weeks.


	5. Me or Them?

A/N: thank u again Glissoning Raven this time mi ONLY reviewer... hint hint... i hope this chapter gives u a lil peak her past, but more comes to light l8r- u wont be left entirely in the dark

Enjoy guys!

Me or them?

Shumila woke with a start the next day. It was almost as if someone had poured water over her face, she was so wide awake. Something was wrong within the house. The atmosphere was tense. She could almost taste it.

Frowning, she forced herself out of bed, and found her body newly bandaged, much more securely. She reminded herself to thank Jack for that.

She pulled her still sore body out of bed, refusing to feel the pain, and found her way to a dressing gown and her door.

She wandered down the stairs slowly, her feet making no sound on the carpet, even on the laminated flooring when she reached the hall. The was talking, and only one sided. She could hear cooking, Jack (she assumed), and low mumbling voices.

She pushed open the kitchen door that revealed Tom Harris and Jack talking quietly as Alex argued down the phone. Surprisingly it was Tom who was cooking rather than Jack.

"Shumila!" grinned Tom, "are you ok? Feeling better?"

He practically leapt to her side, pulling out a chair for her to sit in. She suppressed a laugh as he tucked it in after her.

"Alex told me some of what he knows happened to you, and MI6 just got in touch."

Shumila's cheerful smile, turned into an angry scowl. "Bloody agency…" she mumbled to herself, "is there any tea?" she added, politely.

"No caffeine," insisted Jack immediately, "you'll get jittery and after those attacks I don't want you moving too much."

"Too late," complained Alex, coming to sit down. He glanced across at Shumila, he frowned very slightly towards her, it was not an angry expression; yet Shumila still shuddered, it was far too like Zurruk's. He then turned away from her.

They both knew she wasn't going to tell him the full story, it was obvious that he did not like that.

"Blunt wants us in his office tomorrow morning so they can discuss the situation about Shumila, and apparently they'd got a new case for me. And me new partner."

"They can't mean me," moaned Shumila, looking stricken, "but that… that's ridiculous! I know I said I forget about the pain, that does _not _mean that I'm not aware of my body's restrictions in this state! Are they mad?!"

"Yes," stated both boys, listlessly.

"Don't stop till they get what they want," snarled Alex, to himself, bitterly.

"And they always get what they want," Tom sounding a lot more optimistic, but a lot less chirpy.

Alex shook his head, and pushed his fingers through his hair absently, and looked round the table. Jack's worried face was what stood out to him most of all. He knew the pain she went through every time he had a dangerous mission. But there was more to it this time.

"I won't do it," said Shumila simply, "I won't. I refuse. I'm seventeen, they can't do anything to me."

"Except arrest you," pointed out Alex, his tone sub-zero as he looked up at her for a moment, then away, "they found the bodies."

"Me or them, Rider," snapped the girl, the ice in her voice chilling the air dramatically, "me or them… who would you choose?"

She had a point. But he wasn't about to admit it to her just then.

"They'll put you back on that most wanted list," sighed Jack, reaching out, taking Shumila's hand, "they'll take you away from us. And I know I'd miss you! I've been stuck in a house with more than one man at a time, and barely any females."

Alex looked at her, remembering the times they had been having. How the talked, had fun, simply… were together. He would miss her, her company. She was interesting. But after finding out what she had done the day before, he could not admit that outloud.

"I can't say anything," grinned Tom, "I don't even know you."

"Why are you here again?" asked Alex, rolling his eyes, thankful for avoiding having to say anything to her.

"You told me to come. I'm your friend. And Jack couldn't be bothered to cook this morning." He looked up startled suddenly. "CRAP!" he jumped up and darted towards the oven.

He cursed so colourfully that Shumila looked slightly confused having not heard the words before. "Burnt the fricking pancakes…"

The tension in the air that had built up broken completely, as the three at the table burst out laughing. It hurt Shumila to laugh, but it felt too good to laugh that she couldn't help it!

While Tom pondered what to cook to make up for his failed pancakes, Jack turned to Alex. "What time do they want you?"

"Ten am, sharp. Means I can at least go to my first lesson, and Shumila can have some form of rest."

"I'll be fine by tomorrow," insisted the girl, "well…" she added catching the warning looks from Jack, "I'll be a little better…" she couldn't help but smile to herself feeling thoroughly cared for.

"You tell them you can't do it," insisted Jack, "stay home with me till your better. Alex can get another partner. For a while at least."

She had given up trying to get Alex to get out of missions. He would choose to go on them half the time.

"I will," promised Shumila, "he wouldn't be able work too well with a still injured girl on his side."

He snorted and hid a grin. Though she was right, he knew she wasn't all that helpless. He did hope that MI6 would catch onto that, she still needed time to get over the knife wounds.

"I need to try and have a shower," announced Shumila suddenly, pushing herself away from the table, she hated the cold issuing from Alex, it hurt her more than she thought it should. "And yes Jack," she added, "I'll give you a shout if anything goes wrong."

"Atta girl," cheered Jack, "and don't act all brave, you don't have to be."

The smallest, most painful smile flitted across her features, just before she turned away. Didn't have to be brave? That was a first.

Alex hadn't noticed, he was too busy trying to stop Tom from causing a fire as he got confused with the dials on the hob.

He saw Shumila leave out of the corner of his eye, and decided he didn't want to know.

Twenty minutes later, breakfast was done (though it was more of a brunch by that time) and Shumila still hadn't come down.

"Alex…" asked Jack.

"No," he stated, "you go. She doesn't want to talk to me."

"Oh she just doesn't want to tell you want happened," complained Jack, "she hasn't told anyone! And she's right, if she hadn't killed those people, they would have killed her."

"I know that, but could she have just stunned them?!"

"Alex…" warned Jack, "not everyone's been trained the same way you have. She was _trained _to kill. Put in a situation like that, what do you think an assassin would do?! She's just a girl, Alex, a lost one at that. Don't hold her secrets against her."

"She's got too many!"

"And you don't," she pointed out, eye brows raised.

"I haven't purposefully killed anyone. The only person I got close to, I chickened out."

But he caught Jack's look. Shumila couldn't help the way she was, and it would take her a while to get out of that habit. And if they had done so much damage to her before she killed them, she must have held off.

"Fine," he agreed grudgingly, "but she said she was having a shower. You get her."

Jack sighed and rolled her eyes. Alex was as stubborn as his uncle was. Thinking of Ian still brought a lump to her throat, but it wasn't so bad any more. It helped that Alex looked so like him, she guessed that Ian and John Rider looked similar.

Getting up, she gathered more bandages, and walked up the stairs to find Shumila. Who was simply struggling with trying to bandage herself up.

"She's right," mumbled Tom.

"What?"

"About Shumila. She can't help it. The girl's all heart, and I've met her twice now. I bet she tried not to fight the guys that she killed in case she killed them-"

"Mission accomplished," Alex gritted his teeth and went back to the omelette.

"Piss off, Alex," snapped Tom, finally getting angry, "you saw her in a worse state that I did! The girl's in agony right now! Imagine what she was like when they were doing it to her. She probably held off till should couldn't take it. For God's sake, what happened to 'I think she's all right, I gotta look after her'?! Now you don't seem to care. She's gone from girl to killer in a matter of hours!"

Alex stared at him. "Why do you care?"

"Because I was sent her file too. She's been through shit, and she's lost everything to stop murders. Give her a chance. Jesus Christ, the world we live in, we could do with a little fuckin compassion. Least of all from you! Out of all of us, I think you'd come closest to know what it's like."

"What about-"

"Don't try it," stated Tom, "you're not going to get out of it."

The boys went back to a moody quiet.

"And who would you choose?" added Tom suddenly, "her or those men?"

Alex didn't answer. He stared at his plate. He didn't think he could say anything just then.

It wasn't till much later in the day, when Tom had left, and Jack had popped out to get some supplies of antiseptic and orange juice, did Alex go up to talk to Shumila.

He knocked tentatively on her door.

"What?" she snapped at the door. Wincing, he pushed the door open. By now Shumila was dressed in baggy jeans and a loose, buttoned up blouse, reading an english novel, 1984 by George Orewell. She didn't even look at him when he came in.

"I didn't mean to," he stated suddenly.

"Mean to what?"

"Judge you. For killing those men. I know they must have hurt you really bad, and you must have held off till you-"

"Forget it."

"What?"

"Forget it. I don't care. You guys are all the same. You don't seem to think assassins can be anything else." She glanced up at him. "Not that I can blame you. I just proved it didn't I? Killing those men instead of stunning them."

He sighed and shook his head walking over to her bed. "That was uncalled for," he admitted, sullenly, "you did what you knew best. And they were assassins too, they knew they'd get killed in their line of work."

"Rashid wanted to die."

"Who?"

Shumila was no longer looking at him. Her eys were boring into the walls opposite. It was as though he was no longer in the room with her.

He came and sat on the bed with her, and touched her heand. She jerked it away from him and looked at him startled.

"Who is Rashid?"

"The indian man I killed," she said softly, "one of my people. He wanted to die-"

Alex interrupted her suddenly, "Shumila- don't."

"Don't?"

"Don't say it. You don't have to."

"Yes I do. I want to."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"He wanted to die. He wanted to take out people with him. But he wanted to die. He lost his family, and after that he was dead. Dead before he came to join us. I don't think he wanted to hurt me… but it was him that scared my back. Maybe he knew I'd kill him… he just looked peaceful… he was smiling…"

She swallowed hard, making herself remember that peaceful, smiling face. She had never seen Rashid smile for then. But he died with the sweetest most contented smile on his features, which made Shumila say a prayer over his body, and laid him to rest much more respectfully than his rough, demented colleague.

"Some of them are like that," she finished, forcing back the tears in her eyes. That was the very reason she could never become a killer. Killing people made her emotional, she thought of them as people. People with families. Not just hearts and lungs and blood circulation like she was meant to. But proper people with souls and minds. Killing made her cry.

Alex saw the hidden tears. He recognised them as similar ones to his own when he had been forced to kill a guard who was about to kill George. He pulled her into a gentle hug.

"Don't say anything," he told her firmly, "I don't want to know yet."

She had been through to much, he couldn't make he relive it. He wanted to tell her that he understood, that he was truly sorry. But he couldn't.

Yet at the same time, that was all she needed. Words were redundant and meaningless at times like that. Actions meant much more to people when they felt most vulnerable.

Though she never cried, she clung onto him like a drowning child gasping for air, burying her face in the base of his neck, hiding behind his small mane of hair. Closeness of another human was all she needed. Closeness of a friend.

"Shumila?" he whispered, stroking her hair.

"Mmmm?"

"I would choose you. Every time. I would choose you."

She knew what he meant.

"Same for you Alex."Attack on a Tigress

At about four, Alex got a call from Shumila that she was home. She sounded like she was grinning when she told him that he should listen to Jack far more often.

He got a call from Jack about ten minutes later asking him to bring home some bandages.

"Why…?" he asked slowly, letting one of his friends take over the game for him for a bit.

"Shumila tripped on the way home, she couldn't see where she was going," said Jack breezily, "it didn't start hurting till she sat down. You're exactly the same you know."

Though he was still suspicious, he let it go, and did as Jack asked. He got home at about seven, to find the house unusually quiet and subdued.

"JACK!" he called, worry setting in, "you there?!"

"Hang on," she called, her voice getting nearer, "coming down."

As she walked down the stairs, he could immediately tell something was wrong. She looked tired and more scared than anything else

Alex began to worry.

"What happened?" he asked immediately, "who is it? Has something happened to George?!"

Jack grinned at him. "Chill kiddo! Nothing happened. I'm just a bit tired that's all."

He frowned at her. "Where's Shumila?"

Jack hesitated.

That was answer enough.

He stormed up the stairs and pushed his way into Shumila's room.

She was sitting on her bed, reading an Urdu book. She looked relatively peaceful and calm.

If it wasn't for the fact she had her back thoroughly bandaged and another round her waist, and that most of her skin was badly bruised or cut, one could have thought that nothing much had happened at all- it was as though it happened to her everyday.

When she looked up at him in surprise, he could see a bruise forming just above her eye and her lip was swollen and bloody.

She went pink under his glare and gathered her blanket up to cover herself up, all she was wearing was a spaghetti strap top over her bra. She felt odd wearing such brief clothing in another's home.

"What?" she asked, her voice steady and calm, but her blush cancelled out this charade.

"What do you mean what?!" he stammered, looking completely shocked, "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?!"

She scowled at him, and went back to reading her book, ignoring him stubbornly.

He sighed, that really wouldn't have gotten her to talk to him, and he knew it. He sat on the bed and tugged the book out of her hands. "What happened Shumila?" he asked, politely, pointedly looking at her eyes, "who did this?"

"An agent. Tracked me down, got to me after I got out of the shops. They dragged me down an ally way, but I was struggling too much. We fought." She shook her head. "They scared my back again in the end and told me that was something to remember them by. I think they thought I was dead. It's not as bad as it looks. They watched me grow up, so I don't think they could have done too much damage to me." She shrugged, and held out her hands again for the book, her face completely emotionless, as though the attack on her life meant nothing to her.

Alex stared at her, suddenly very tempted to hug her, but she would have been in too much pain.

"Does it hurt?" he asked softly, taking her hand instead.

"Only if I let it," she shook his hand away from her's, and took back the book. "I don't think I can make dinner tonight," she added, casually.

"All right," muttered Alex getting up, feeling surprisingly snubbed.

He walked out of the room quietly closing the door behind him.

Though she was refusing to talk to him, he felt angry. The thing was, he was angry with himself; he had let her go out on her own, knowing his job was to protect her from something like that. He hadn't been there to make sure she was all right. He hadn't been at home to make sure her injuries were properly looked after, seeing as Jack must have panicked seeing the girl walk in with such injuries.

He was a spy. The longest spy of the Youth Movement and he should have known by then that he couldn't take such risks! Especially with a guarding job. Especially with someone like Shumila Hussain. She had possible more enemies than him.

As he tried to assume a more casual expression as he came down stairs to talk to Jack about dinner. But even as he managed it, it was obvious to Jack he had been effected by the damage done to the girl.

Back in her room, Shumila went over the day's events. How she knew she was being followed as soon as she walked down the street out of the local shop. She had started up a small conversation with the Afghani man behind the counter in their native tongue. It had felt good to finally speak it with someone who understood the language. So she had taken much longer than she should have.

She forced herself to remember how the men followed her, how she was stupid and didn't try to break into a run. She knew very well she'd have been able to out run them. Even if she lost her things on the way. She did anyway.

The memories guided her through the tortures they put her through.

First the guilt of abandoning her family, stopping her brother, betraying them. Trying to make her come back, that she wouldn't be punished. An our right lie. They wouldn't take her back properly. They'd kill her eventually.

Secondly threatening her, telling her they'd kill her then and there, how her father would have her tortured. The madness her mother was going through. That too was a lie. Her mother was too strong. She fitted in perfectly with the assassins she married into. Though she loved her daughter, and would do nothing to harm her, Shumila knew her mother would never back her on running away.

Thirdly, attacking her, putting her through physical pain. Forgetting entirely that she had been trained since before she could talk to cut pain out of her system till she needed it. To heal herself.

Finally, how she killed them. Letting the animal in her take hold of her. How she completely forgot the restrictions on her back and snapped the man's neck with a quick tug with her knee at his back. His name was Rashid. An Indian man. A widower. Hating life and everything in it for loosing his wife and son. The other man with his throat cut, her hazel eyes boring into his blue. His name was Benjamin. An ex-CIA man. Changing sides for the money, after abandoning the troops when he came to Afghanistan. No one knew of his past.

She called MI6, told them what happened and forced her way home, into the open arms of a worried Jack.

Alex would find out the details, of how the people were killed, and probably why they tried to kill her. But she wouldn't tell him. She was far too ashamed. She had killed her own people. To save her own neck. She could never go back.

And finally she knew she didn't want to. Murder ate at her soul and turned her into an animal she didn't want to be.

She didn't care where she lived, or if she had to turn into a prostitute. Anything was better than being a killer. Anything.

Later that night, Alex came in to check on the injured girl. He had been rather subdued during dinner, and Jack wasn't willing to talk. They both knew very well that after those attacks, Alex would probably be sent on a mission, and Shumila would either go with him, or be banished from their lives entirely.

Jack had come to like having another girl in the house, and Alex liked the company. He lost the feeling of something being wrong with her after that, and only found himself feeling friendship for the girl instead. Having her taken away would cut a large hole in the change of strategy.

He knocked on the door. When there was no answer, his heart started racing and he pushed the door open.

The light was still on and Shumila had fallen asleep, the book still in her lap. He chuckled slightly, and walked over taking the book away, and putting her in a more comfortable position to be sleeping in.

She winced in pain in her sleep as he moved her, but didn't wake up or do anything else. He knew the next day she'd probably start needing a dose of morphine or something similar to keep the pain at bay.

He also knew, that no matter what happened, that attack was the trigger for what was to happen to him and her in coming weeks.


	6. Some Others

A/N: wow… thanks guys!!! Many reviewers this time

Dizzy-monster: hehe thankies :) shumila's 1 of mi favourite charries. She can get a little annoying when shes rather cold- but that's just the culture :D

Glissioning Raven: it wasn't quite a repeat… but I didn't know what to do so I decided to explain it to Alex… don't think it workd :P btw- THANK U 4 REVIEWING LIKE EVERY CHAPTER!!!! hugs

Elli Liegh: WOW! I love ur enthusiasm! I'm glad you like it that much XD I hope u enjoy this chapter as much.

Krystle: I never thought of it like tht :O but thankies!

It's your guys fault this chapter came up XD without your reviews I wud never had the inspiration to write! Hope this isn't a disappointment 2 u all:)

Some Others

"So… I don't have to go?" asked Shumila slowly, staring at both heads of MI6 in complete shock.

"No," replied Mrs. Jones softly, "we were going to send you in straight away originally, however with this development…" she sighed and shook her head, "you, miss Hussain, are in no condition to do anything but stay at home and read comics."

"Thanks, but I think I'll stick with my Bill Bryson collection I found," was all Shumila had to say to that.

"Under our orders, you are to stay home and heal as fast as possible. We'll be sending Alex in first, thinking about it, it's almost more believable if we have you sent in afterwards."

"What is it anyway? Nothing to do with the Tigers?"

Mrs. Jones shook her head. "No, we've sent adults in to try and sort your little problem out for the moment. We can't close them down, but we can delete all material and digital data of you from the main stream."

Shumila's eyes were just blank as she heard that. She didn't do the office stuff, she was the physical type.

"What ever," she shrugged painfully, "I'm going home."

She stood up slowly, clutching her left side painfully as she stood. She completely ignored the pain signals sent to her brain, but she knew she had to move slowly. To her, pain was an irritating sensation, just was tickling or an itch was. She completely ignored it as she would an itch.

It was a part of her training, and she considered it a main part of who she was.

She met Alex in the lobby. He was pacing, looking agitated and angry. His blonde hair was out of it's usual pony tail, and in his thundering face, his eyes covered by his hair. She didn't dare go near him when he was in such a state. It could only mean that something terrible had happened.

"What is it?" she asked, nearing him, dropping her head away from her ribs, she didn't want him thinking she was in pain.

He started, and whirled round to look at her. He studied her face closely, then his eyes wandered down to her side, almost to check she wasn't holding it. Satisfied his brown his shot back to her hazel. "The Youth Movement in my year found out about you."

She shrugged. "And?"

"Most aren't happy about it. Three of them have had family killed by the Tigers."

"It has nothing to do with me."

"You were one of them, and in their eyes, the embodiment of the tigers in Britain. They're not happy about it. They've called me traitor for taking you in."

Shumila sighed, but said nothing. She shook her head and walked past him. "Get back to class, Rider," she called over her shoulder, "I'm going back. I'm not coming on the mission with you. Not to begin with anyway."

Before he could say anything, Shumila was out on the street near Liverpool Street Station.

She smiled to herself softly, allowing her hand to drift to her side, protecting it more than anything. She hailed a cab, which took about fifteen minutes, and headed home. She couldn't stop smiling. And she knew why.

Alex stood inside, staring at her figure through the glass doors as she signalled for a taxi, then left to get back to class.

As he got into the elevator, pushing the button for floor -3, his scowl deepened. It was unfair that they would jump to conclusions about the girl. They didn't know if she chose to be a killer, if she had killed for money. Almost none of them even knew how old she was.

He had heard Fred and Lewis (two boys in his year) saying they heard that even though she was supposed to be extremely pretty and could pass for their age, she was actually almost thirty. At the time Alex had felt like punching them both. But thinking back on it- it made him laugh.

He walked out of the lift and into the hall. It was lunch time, so most of the kids were probably either eating lunch or doing some form of practise.

-3 was the floor where the different training rooms were. With his anger building up inside his system, Alex made a conscious decision to get it out through training.

Besides, he would need his calm if he was to speak to the heads of MI6 just after lunch.

Tying his hair back, he walked into one of the many gyms. This one was entirely made for body building and consisted of weights and punching bags. Though one would have thought girls would not use the room as much, as usual there were about three or four females in the room. Two that Alex could see were from his own age group. Joyce and Pushmina.

Pushmina was a purely Pakistani girl, brought up in the UK. Her family had left Pakistan hoping for a better life. The whole plan collapsed around their ears when Pushmina was ten; her father went bankrupt, her brother was involved in gun culture and was killed and her mother died of cancer. It turned out later that her brother, Ushad, had been involved (accidentally) with the Tigers.

They killed him when he told them he wanted out. Their father had found out later, when it was only himself and Pushmina. Being somewhat naive to their power, and only wishing for a better future for his daughter, Ali tried to blackmail the branch of Tigers when Pushmina was thirteen. Instead, his luck still ran out and he was killed on the spot.

Pushmina took to living on the streets. She harboured revenge for the assassination circle. MI6 took advantage of the hate and hired her eight months after they hired Alex.

Alex eyed her warily. She was pushing weights as she spoke to Joyce. She spotted him and smiled gently, then turned back to Joyce.

That surprised Alex a lot. Apart from Shumila, Pushmina was a female that Alex would hate to get on the wrong side of. She was slightly built, but strong, determined and deadly with her hands. The two had met by accident almost a year after they were hired, and she almost broke his arm.

But it surprised him because he would have thought that she of all people would have hated him for taking in a Tiger.

Joyce on the other hand looked ready to kill him.

She was purely English. Her father was a spy, but he had left her mother to keep them safe. That was as far as Alex knew about her past. Everything else about her background was skin deep. Having seen her mother he had deducted that her father must have been white (Joyce had creamy caramel skin and was clearly half white and half black). Considering the fact that she spoke with an upper class English accent, she must have been brought up in that sort of environment. At the same time the fact that she could shoot down any one at a drop of a hat meant she was used to being insulted and would not stand for it.

Shaking his head, Alex made a bee line for a punching bag. His things were near by, as promised Bryan made sure nothing was touched (Bryan had only just moved up into the seventeen to nineteen sector, but he fitted in fine seeing as he was unusually big and heavily built for his age).

"You all right?" asked the heavy set boy, looking at Alex.

"I'm great," grinned Alex, pulling off his shirt, bending down to pick up a air of hand guards.

"And the girl?"

Though it was asked casually, Alex could feel the question being charged with a thousand volts.

"Bry look, she's jus-"

"I know I know," Bryan was trying to sound like he didn't care all that much, but he didn't seem to be very good at hiding it yet, "I'm just wandering."

Alex sighed and nodded. "She's not good," he muttered finally, not wanting anyone else to hear, but at the same time feeling the need to explain to Bryan. Alex wanted the guy to understand that Shumila was not a Tiger. Not any more.

"What?" he asked. He glanced at Joyce and Pushmina. Pushmina seemed to be trying to calm Joyce down, but otherwise no one else was near them. "What's wrong with her?" Bryan asked, coming closer.

Alex looked up at him from fasting the guards. He beaconed the new kid down towards him, to talk so they wouldn't be over heard.

"She was attacked not long ago." Bryan snorted. "By Tigers," finished Alex, he could not help but sound somewhat smug. He didn't mean to, but it seemed to prove that she was no longer one of them.

Bryan looked at him sharply, his brown eyes wide. "No way."

"Seriously man. They beat her up pretty bad. She can still barely move."

"Then what's she doing here?"

"Heads wanted to see her. She was meant to partner up with me on my next case. But since she got attacked that's been put back a little. Till she get better."

"Tiger's really want her dead?"

Alex cocked an eye brow. "Nah… it's their way of welcoming her back." He smacked the upside of the younger boy's head. "Cause they want her dead! She told them to stuff it when she was told to kill me and ran away!"

"She had to kill you?"

"Uh…" Alex gulped. He hadn't meant for that piece of information to be let out. He went slightly pink as Bryan watched his face.

Not even Tom knew about that bit. He sighed.

"Yeah…" he couldn't lie to the guy, "she was meant to. But she's never killed as an assassin. 'parently always said they weren't paying her enough. Got her out of trouble with the circle for a while. But it couldn't have worked for ever."

Bryan was looked slightly down cast.

"What's up?" asked Alex.

"I feel kinda bad now…" muttered Bryan. Alex suddenly realised the guy was blushing! "I thought she'd be like a cold blooded killer."

"That's what I was trying to say! She's been staying with us a while now. She's so normal. Well… she's not used to english culture or anything yet, so she probably feels a little alien. But she's… she's…"

"Just like any other girl?" said a venomous voice from behind them.

"Leave him alone," snapped an accented voice further away.

Joyce stood behind Alex, hands on her hips, looking incredibly angry. Alex stood to face her. One of the things he liked about Joyce was the fact that she wasn't miles shorter than he was. Often the two were almost friends.

But just then she looked as though she would have liked nothing better than to have put a knife between his ribs.

Behind her and coming forwards was Pushmina, not looking happy.

"He's done nothing wrong," Pushmina said, there was still a slight middle eastern accent to her english, but it was barely noticeable.

"And what about that killer?" Joyce sounded outraged.

"She's done nothing!" insisted Pushmina, almost desperately, "she's probably no older than we are. It's not right."

"What isn't?" asked Alex.

Alex immediately felt her brown eyes piercing through him. "To judge the girl when she can't help what family she was born to. She probably doesn't even like the idea of killing, if she has killed at all! Has she?"

Alex smirked and promptly decided to be a little democratic with the truth. "She's no assassin if that's what you mean."

The girl seemed to notice that play on words, but said nothing of it. "See?"

Joyce still looked angry. By the time Pushmina was by her side.

"Listen, jaani," the girl said softly to Joyce, (again Alex wandered what the word meant, he had heard Shumila use it as well), "I know it;s on my behalf. But seriously- I cannot take it out on a girl I have never met. It's not her fault. She was probably to young to even remember anything about my brother or my dad."

"She wasn't even in the same country," murmured Alex softly.

Joyce's fists were still curled. Alex could see nothing was going to change her mind.

"Look Joyce," he started, before Pushmina could plead any more, "Shumila is not a Tiger, never was. She a normal girl. Like books, music, TV. She's intelligent, strong and a good laugh. She knows how to cook, but she has an awful sense of direction, still doesn't really know her left from her right. But she can find her own way to any where. But it's up to you how you judge the girl. I'm not going to make that decision for you. Just don't take it out on me. I was given a mission, just like any of you and I'm carrying it out."

"So she's only a mission to you?" asked Bryan, sounding surprised.

"No," Alex said simply, "it started that way. But no. She's a friend. I'll defend if you call her names when she's not here and all of that (she can do it herself when she is here). But I don't see why you need to take your anger out on me."

He glared at Joyce. The two sizing each other up, almost as though the two of them would consider a fight. Normally Alex would have qualms about hitting a girl, but not these girls. They all trained together, they were pitted against each other too. Males and females meant nothing. They would be evenly matched.

Joyce looked away first.

She didn't return to her training but collected her things and headed towards the door.

Pushmina sighed, as she watched her friend go.

"Hey Alex," Pushmina said suddenly as Alex took his place behind a bag.

"Mmm?"

"Can I meet Shumila?"

Alex hesitated then looked at her. She looked fine. Not angelic, just normal. She stood with her weight on one leg, and a hand locked over an elbow. She face was curious more than anything else.

"It's just that, she might feel a bit alienated in this place. And I speak pushto and urdu. Might help her a little if she can speak to someone in her native tongue."

"You sure you'll be ok?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," she smiled at him, "like I said. I know who my father's killers are. They're the ones I have a problem with. The rest of the organisation? I don't really care about any more. But that's besides the point. Care I meet her?"

He paused. "If you're sure."

"Can I come over tonight?"

Alex tried a smile, but it turned out more lopsided than he wanted. "All right. Meet me after school yeah?"

"Ok."

She left grabbing her things, obviously following where Joyce had left to.

"Sure that's a good idea?" asked Bryan.

"I think so," Alex said softly "even if it isn't, I'll be there."

He looked at the bag, doubts forming in his mind. As he started to punch it, little sparks to about his torso level, he started to laugh slightly.

They almost sounded like normal teenagers. Maybe arguing over a boyfriend of something. The sad thing was, that could never be. They could never simply hang out for the sake of it. They could never complain about teachers or work. Everything was different for them.

Nothing about himself had turned out the way he had pictured his teenage life, Alex realised. He just hoped it was the right decision on his half.


	7. Closest Thing To Normal

Closest Thing To Normal

A/N: c'mon guys!!!! Whats with the lack of reviews :( I love to know what u think!! Thanks 2 mi only reviewer (and first flamer :P) SmokingCitySky honestly the funniest thing I have read for a very long time!

Anyway- enjoy the next chapter XD

That evening as he and Pushmina walked onto his street, Alex was still seething.

"They call me out half way through Mandarin just to tell me what i already know then tell me I have another two to three weeks before they send me off because they still aren't sure about the information they're given! At this rate Shumila will be able to come with me!"

"That's a bad thing?" asked Pushmina, smoothly.

"Considering I was hoping to get the job done in a week or two, yes. I don't want her coming with me. She's in a bad way, and she'll insist on coming anyway."

Pushmina studied his face as they walked, then looked away. Her eyes seemed to be lost in the distance at the same time concentrating hard.

"What?" asked Alex.

She shook her head and looked up at his concerned face. "Nothing," she said brightly, beaming, "just thinking about Joyce. I know she doesn't have much to do with the Tigers. One of her missions involved protecting a guy from them, but that was successful." She shook her head again, pushing her hands deeper into her pockets. "I wish I knew why she reacted so badly.

"You two are friends, so I guess she was getting angry for you."

"But I don't see why! I don't care! Yes the Tigers made me who I am now. I like it though! Otherwise I might have had to stay in a proper school-" she made a face, though she was intelligent, she had a mild form of ADD which meant she had a problem with school in general. "or worse… get persuaded into an arranged marriage to keep me afloat!"

Alex put a hand on her shoulder briefly. "Not everyone thinks that way. Maybe Joyce preferred it without MI6 interference."

Pushmina sighed. "Joyce didn't live on the streets."

This time Alex nodded. He understood that much. He may have been able to have a secure future with or without MI6, but some people in the Youth Movement had much better lives because of it. They had Alex to thank for the change as well. If he hadn't worked, they would never have expanded it.

It was only when he spoke to people like Pushmina did he remember that even though he hated the lies that MI6 would feed to everything; they made some lives good and better.

"We're here," he said, nudging her gently to walk up the stairs.

"Oh…" she looked up and started walking up the stairs. She paused for a moment just before the last step and seemed to make a final decision, and waited by the door for him.

"You don't have to," he said as he looked for his keys as he joined her.

"Yes I do. I'd hate to be stuck in a world I know nothing about. I can help her."

It hadn't been what he meant. It was clear however that Pushmina was avoiding the real meaning behind his statement. He didn't push it. He didn't want to.

They walked into the house and was immediately hit with the smell of cooking and the sound of someone shouting.

Unusually it was Shumila cooking and Jack shouting.

Shumila darted out of the kitchen, tugged on Alex's sleeve and nodded to the kitchen. Once the three of them were inside, Shumila shut the door and sighed.

"Blunt called," Shumila said, "he said he wanted me to come in again in two weeks time for a briefing on the mission. Jack over heard. She's going ballistic. It's something to do with George as well." She glanced at Pushmina and looked slightly taken a back. "Asalmwa-alaycoom," she said.

"Wah-laycoom assalaam," Pushmina responded, the two girls hugged briefly kissing both cheeks.

Alex quickly realised it was a usual greeting between people in pakistan.

(_A/N: this language is URDU not pushto, I'm putting a translation next to it_)

"Aap keh naam quaa heh?" asked Pushmina. (_who are you?/what's your name?_)

"Shumila Hussasin, aur tum?" (_Shumila, and you?_)

"Pushmina Kamal."

The two girls eyed each other up warily as Pushmina sat down and Shumila tentatively returned to her cooking.

"Uh Shumila? This is-"

"Pushmina- I know. Aap keh naam quaa heh? Means 'what's your name'."

"Oh right…" Alex damned himself for looking over the obvious, "well she's a friend of mine from MI6."

"Pakistani heh?" asked Shumila surprised.

"Huh!" responded Pushmina, she was about to reply fully when Alex interrupted.

"Guys- english… please. Talk urdu or pushto or what ever when I am _not_in the room. I'm feeling left out. I understood that bit- lets keep it that way."

Shumila chuckled to herself. "Kumasley," she said, smiling at Alex, almost fondly.

Pushmina looked momentarily confused, then something appeared to click. She burst out laughing.

"Tu-" she started, grinning from ear to ear.

"I said english!" complained Alex. He was fluent in French, Spanish, German and Italian as well as basic Arabic, Mandarin and Afrikaan. But he had yet to learn Urdu, and he resolved there to learn Pushto as well. He did not like not being able to understand what was going on.

"Your using the wrong sex," said Pushmina, sitting down at the dining table, Shumila following suit.

"Not really," she said, then winked, "if you _really_think about it."

"Poowegii english?!" (_You understand English well_[Pushto)

"Maatah putt'ah dah!" said Shumila happily (_I know _[Pushto), then glanced at Alex who looked rather angry, "I've been speaking english almost as long as I have spoken Urdu or Pushto. But I learnt from a South African- so I have the accent."

Alex finally understood why she had that accent. It hadn't made sense to him otherwise.

Shumila jumped to her feet, almost knocking her chair over. She immediately grabbed the back of her chair and stabled it. Her reactions were lightening, it was almost impossible to comprehend some times.

"Shitshitshitshit!" she muttered irritably, "I'll burn the bloody thing if I'm not careful!" She was at stove in a moment, lifting the lid on something that was heavily spiced and smelled amazing. She sighed in relief.

"Berriahni?" asked Pushmina, getting up and walking over, looking over Shumila's shoulder.

Alex was surprised how two two differed. To begin with he thought they would have been rather more the same. They had similar back grounds, though he found out Pushmina was half Pataan and half mainland Pakistani rather than full Pataan like Shumila. They had similar problems, though one had a family than lost it, the other ran away from hers because they caused so much havoc. They also had the same aura of danger to those who knew them.

No one would mess with Pushmina in the YM, she was a dangerous fighter and knew exactly what to do. Shumila could kill if she wanted to, and besides that her record from what the MI6 had gathered had been unsurpassed with the Tigers for generations.

Yet at the same time, Shumila was far gentler. She moved with cat like grace and spoke far more softly. She smiled more readily and seemed to dislike confrontation.

Whereas Pushmina was harsher. Her tones were gruff, her movements slightly more stiff and it was harder to get her to smile. Yet she seemed to have had the better deal, though she lived on the streets, at least she had known a family's love and never been lonely. Shumila was only just getting used to the idea of people caring about her for who she was.

Physically too. While Shumila was boarding on skinny though her body had been hardened with muscle, Pushmina was just that little bit broader, there was most certainly more muscle to her as well. She was also rather a bit darker.

Seeing the two together, now reverted back to Pushto, Alex could see that although they differed quite a lot, there were unbelievable similarities two.

Yet he was still surprised that Pushmina seemed to have relaxed around Shumila so much. Shumila may have left the Tigers, but it was still astonishing that she was so forgiving.

"Do you guys mind if I go have a shower?" he asked, getting up, "you guys can finish off what ever that is."

"Eh batamees," said Pushmina smirked, "just coz we're women."

"No," he retorted, "because you know what you're doing and you're not speaking English."

"Yeahyeahyeah," dismissed Shumila, "get lost."

Alex looked at her, she was frowning in concentration at the pan, muttering darkly to herself. Sounded like she had ruined it, but it still smelt amazing. He had half a mind to walk over and hug her. He didn't, he walked out sneaking passed the still ranting Jack.

Back in the kitchen the girls had reverted back to pushto again.

"When did you come to England?" asked Pushmina, as Shumila heaved the pan off the stove, still looking irritable.

"Not long ago," she replied, "kinda hoping that I wouldn't have to deal with MI6 in so much detail. But it's better than still being thought of as a… well you know…"

She went a bit red, not looking at the other girl. She had finally realised where she had heard the name before. It wasn't an uncommon name, but it was the place as well as the name that made her put two and two together.

"What about you? You still speak perfect Urdu." She wanted to play dumb though. She hated what her family did to people.

"Oh years and years ago," Pushmina replied, "is there an chaat?" she added, looking through the cupboards, referring to a rather hot spice that most of middle Asia liked.

"The cupboard on the right," repaid Shumila.

Pushmina found it, and handed it to the other girl. As Shumila took it, Pushmina didn't let go.

"Look, I know you know," she said quietly, "about my brother and my father."

Shumila was startled, and her face showed it. Her eyes became downcast, her light cheeks reddened. "I wish-"

"We wish a lot of things," dismissed Pushmina, "but… Shumila look at me?"

Hesitantly Shumila looked upwards.

"I don't blame you, I mean, you can't be older than seventeen. Younger than I am. You could have done nothing about it. I have nothing against you. It's the actual murderers that I have something against- and from what I found out… you killed one of them."

"I have?" Shumila started slightly, "you mean Rashid Arwan?!"

Pushmina nodded. "He was the reason you can't go on the next mission isn't he?"

Shumila's hand went to her ribs for a second then nodded. She took the chaat from the other girl and added it to the food in the pan.

"You're like me," said Pushmina, backing away, speaking more freely, there weren't many who could understand their words, "this place won't accept either of us, and we don't have family in this country. I mean I might have it slightly better, I'm used to the differences between our cultures. But you've been thrown into the deep end…"

"I can deal with it," Shumila said, "I'm good at adapting." She looked up at Pushmina. "You know… I almost wish you would hate me. I feel like all those murders of the innocents were my fault."

Scowling Pushmina out a firm hand on Shumila's shoulder, "it's not your fault. Any of it. You've never killed out of malice or for payment. You can't help your bringing up. You've probably heard that a million times, but it's true. You are now your own person. You can do what you want."

Shumila started laughing. "Tell me you're joking. I'm under MI6's control now, not Tigers. Admittedly I'm not killing anyone. But I'm not in control. If I leave, I'll be put on the most wanted list again, and I'll have to be dealt with."

"But…" Pushmina paused. Shumila was right. MI6 may have worked for her, but Shumila was probably a huge asset to them and she had no choice but to work for them. She sighed.

Shumila stirred the pot contents of rice, fried chillied potatoes and cooked spiced lamb. It was something she often made at home, and missed thoroughly. It was the first thing she thought of when Jack asked her to cook.

A few minutes quiet passed between them. Shumila trying to remember what ingredients there were meant to be, whereas Pushmina tried to make her realise that the other girl could truly be her own person.

"Shumila?"

"Mmm?"

"You're not so bad."

Shumila paused, then chuckled slightly. "Thanks… I think…"

"No really. I thought you'd be more… antisocial and quiet. You really are quite a lovely girl."

Shumila blushed deep red again. "Thanks…"

What Pushmina did not realise is that no one had described Shumila in those terms before. It had always been 'efficient', 'adaptable' or, if she was very lucky, 'intelligent'. It was never 'lovely' or any word like it. It was strange to her, but at the same time, the sort of strange that she enjoyed.

"This going to sound really odd," continued Pushmina, sitting at the dining table, leaning back in her chair, gazing at the ceiling, "but… could we be friends?"

"You sure you wanna be friends with a killer?" asked Shumila lightly.

Pushmina laughed. "You're not a killer," she said easily, "I don't care if you've killed in the past, you're no killer. You blush too much, you've got to many regrets."

She wanted to contradict those comments, just on principle, even though Shumila knew them all to be true.

"And besides," Pushmina looked at Shumila, "you need some female company while your here. Alex is a sweetheart, but he's a boy. He doesn't always understand. And he's incredibly dumb some times."

That got Shumila laughing. "You can say that again."

The pair beamed at each other.

Not long after that, when Jack had finally come off the phone, and was sitting in the kitchen muttering darkly about how ridiculous both George and Blunt were being, Alex rejoined the girls. He found it very odd that there were more females than males in the house for once. Yet he still didn't feel all that out numbered.

Both Pushmina and Shumila were finishing off some sort of snack by the stove that consisted of a batter, different vegetables and oil. They were laughing and joking together, in a language that neither Jack nor Alex understood.

Shumila quickly came to Jack's side, leaving Pushmina to dip the batter covered potatoes, onions and broccoli into the oil. She wrapped her arms round Jacks shoulders, hugging her tightly, muttering something softly into the older woman's ear.

Jack heaved a sigh and reached up to touch her cheek gently.

"I know I know… I just wish he wouldn't go off like that…"

"And Blunt is a heartless bastard," Pushmina called over.

"That too," agreed Shumila, she hugged Jack again tightly before sitting down again, "and Alex? Please don't hover just out the door."

Alex was suddenly very glad that he wasn't the only one that looked rather surprised, Pushmina did not appear to have grasped that Shumila was razor sharp at the worst of times. She was just getting better at hiding it.

"Sorry sorry," grinned Alex sitting down, "what's for dinner?"

"It's called berriahni," said Pushmina, "you probably wouldn't know it."

"I don't!" said Alex, looking worried, "it'll be nice right…?"

"Of coarse!" exclaimed Shumila, "I made it." She crossed her arms, looking very pleased with herself. "Oh Pushmina- you staying for dinner?"

"Uh…" the girl almost stammered.

"Yes she will," said Jack, stubbornly, "I like having girls about the place."

"Dinner with three women… joy…" said Alex, rolling his eyes.

"Watch it!" all three said together.

Alex dived under the table, before they could find anything to throw at him.


End file.
